


Reporting In

by speedgriffon



Series: I Shall Taunt You a Second Time | Dragonborn Fiona Fics [12]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Shades of Bodyworship, Vaginal Fingering, self-indulgent writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 20:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedgriffon/pseuds/speedgriffon
Summary: Fiona finds a report from Brynjolf on the Guildmaster's desk, except its contents aren't exactly what she was expecting.





	Reporting In

**Author's Note:**

> responded to a prompt but this turned into something else (self-indulgent plot what plot?)  
recommended listening is that smooth sax line in the new t-swift song 'false god'

The Guildmaster’s desk was a mess of reports and coin satchels—a good sign, but also a sign Fiona would be busy that evening reviewing the week’s intake of profits. Judging by the merriment of the Guild members in the Cistern, there hadn’t been any loses while she’d been away pilfering her own goods for the vault. She sidestepped the offering chest, focusing instead on the various piles of parchment from her team.

Delvin’s reports from footpads and how they were successfully _fishing_ from nobles in Solitude and Whiterun, Tonila’s logbook from the shipment of diamonds she intercepted off the Winterhold coast, Vex’s list of earnings of selling off stolen goods to fences across Skyrim…the reports seemed never ending. Business was _excellent._

What she didn’t expect to find was a report from Brynjolf—his scraggly handwriting the only indication it was from him. Since she had taken over as Guildmaster, he had favored telling her of his escapades in person. He called it _pillow talk_, Fiona called it lazy and poor book-keeping. It intrigued her so much that she pulled it from the stack, softly chuckling at the little illustrated heart he had drawn on the front next to _Guildmaster_.

* * *

—_Windhelm_

_This city is miserable without you, lass. Sitting in this tavern, I’m reminded that this is the first place where we first shared a bed—or at least the first time I didn’t have to sneak into your room uninvited only for you to kick me to the floor in the night. You must’ve known I wanted you then, even if my intentions weren’t entirely pure with the games we played. We’ve found ourselves in this place several times since that evening, and we’ve changed since then—how mad for you I’ve become, and unafraid I am to show you exactly how I feel. _

_If you were here with me—I’d kiss every inch of that soft skin of yours, touch every expanse. Count every freckle on your shoulders with my tongue and work to leave my mark on the column of your neck. Collect your sighs as they spill from your lips and trace the outline of your body with my own. I’d praise your body like the goddess you are—Divines strike me down if that’s too sacrilegious. _

_I’d bring you insurmountable pleasure, have you coming with my hands, with my mouth—long before I ever take you with my body. I’d fill you completely, make love in that slow way that agonizes you—fuck you until your body trembled with ecstasy. I would not stop until I had you screaming my name for the whole city to hear. _

_That is, if you were here. _

_Until I see you again, lass, and can take you to bed. _

_-B _

* * *

Fiona read over the letter a second and then a third time, gripping the parchment a little tighter each time. She should’ve known not to expect a formal report from him, but she didn’t think he’d ever send anything like…_this_. She was so engrossed in the words that when a hand landed on her waist, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“I see you received my message,” Brynjolf laughed, pulling her back tight against his chest as his other arm snaked around her hip. “It’s not like you to be startled, lass.”

Fiona blinked hard and made to respond when he nuzzled his head against hers, brushing away the lose strands of her hair, seeking out her neck. She knew _exactly _what he was after and within seconds, his lips were wrapped around her pulse point—his most favored spot. A tingle ran down the length of her spine to the tip of her toes. Despite how she tried to hide it, she knew he had noticed her full body shiver with the way his lips curled into a devious grin against her skin.

“Back so soon?” she rasped, biting her lip and cursing herself at the lame question. Was that all she could say? While she would never give him the satisfaction of admitting it, it was so easy for him at times to dissolve her into a speechless, lovestruck fool with a few well-placed kisses and honeyed words. He had barely begun and _Gods_ she wanted him--needed him—_now_.

“Aye,” he answered, deep voice muffled against her throat. “You read my _report_, Fiona.” His teeth nipped at the tender flesh behind her ear, and she bit back a moan, eyes darting across the Cistern, wondering if anybody was watching or just choosing to ignore their Guildmaster and Second’s public displays of lewdness.

Brynjolf shuffled them forward, pinning Fiona’s hips to the desk. He pressed further, making his arousal known through their leathers against her flank. Finally, Fiona found her voice.

“You’re here to take me to bed?” she asked, struggling to hide her excitement.

“No,” he answered gruffly. “The desk will do just fine.”

Fiona’s breath caught in her throat as his hand on her waist dropped low, deft fingers dipping beneath the layers of leather and cloth to touch at the flesh of her lower back. She sighed, bracing her hands against the desk as his hand dipped further, groping at the curve of her ass. His knee nudged her thigh and she took the not-so-subtle hint, spreading her stance just enough. Brynjolf shifted, leaning over her shoulder to glance at her, _watch her_ as he carefully maneuvered his fingers further down her pants to her entrance.

She inhaled sharply when he finally touched her, involuntarily jutting her hips forward. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his smirk, darkened eyes drinking in her every reaction to his touch. The tip of one finger slowly slid across her seam, her knees wanting to buckle already. He was teasing her, never quite pressing the digit within her folds and yet she could still feel herself coiling up.

“_Bryn_—” she choked in a quiet hush, trying to pull away but found that his grip would not allow for it. “The others!”

She was not opposed to him taking her across the desk—not in the _slightest_, but for _Talos’_ sake, could he be any less impatient? She didn’t need an audience and hadn’t developed a penchant for voyeurism while he was gone.

“Better dismiss them,” he mused, not even remotely pausing in his movements as he curled his fingers against her heat. “Quickly now, before I make you—”

A trembling sigh escaped her before she finally found the strength to elbow him to give herself a little bit of space. He sniggered, retreating and removing his hands from her body as she shouted across the wide-open room. “Everybody!” she waved her arm in the direction of the Flaggon. “I’ve read the reports from this week. Drinks are on me!”

She had to admit it didn’t sound like the _best _excuse for free alcohol. When the Guild took their time filing themselves into the ratway tavern, Brynjolf shouted after them, louder than her. “You heard the boss, on with it!”

As if catching the tone in his voice, every last thief quickly evacuated the Cistern until Fiona and Brynjolf were the only ones left. 

“Well now they definitely know what we’re up to,” Fiona mumbled, a hand over her face.

Brynjolf quickly turned her body so she was facing him, capturing her lips in a rough kiss. He wedged her against the desk once more, hands roaming across her waist more eagerly than before, pulling at buckles and laces to remove her clothing.

“Oh well,” he broke away to mutter against her mouth. “They’ll be hearing you anyways.”

She moaned at his words and tilted her head to the side when his kisses trailed back towards her neck, lips fervently moving along her skin as his heated fingertips tugged at her pants. Her hands joined his, quickly removing her coat and tossing it aside—she’d leave her undershirt on for now. She then reached out for him, but only managed to undo the first few buckles of his armored coat before he swatted her hands away.

“You first,” he clarified, sultry expression telling her he was much more focused on _her_ pleasure than his own.

Reluctantly, Fiona let him continue until he had pulled her trousers down just past her thighs, fingers catching her undergarments at the same time. Only then did he grip her hips, effortlessly lifting her to prop her on the edge of the desk. Brynjolf then sat in the Guildmaster’s chair, sliding it closer as he slowly removed her boots, never once removing his burning gaze from hers. There was something predatory in his expression, but instead of frightening her it only aroused her further. It was something she was still getting used to with Brynjolf—the different ways he showed his _physical_ affection, now that they were together. He could surprise her in Nightingale Hall and fuck her brains out against a catacomb wall and in the morning at Honeyside have nothing but sweet and slow affection to shower her in. Fiona loved and craved it all.

When she was completely bare from the waist down, he ran his hands across her legs, tilting his head just close enough to kiss the inside of one knee. “Lie back lass, so that I can taste you.”

Fiona followed his instructions immediately, leaning back until she was flush against the desk. Brynjolf steadied her legs in his grasp, spreading them as he made room for himself, eventually propping her knees along the wide expanse of his shoulders. He kissed upwards, the prickly stubble of his beard causing her skin to tickle. One hand creeped upwards with his head, the other firmly gripping her hip to the table.

When his hand found her centerfolds again, she heard—_felt_—him groan, he couldn’t resist reacting to how stimulated she was for him. Brynjolf only touched her for a fleeting moment before replacing his hand with his mouth, tongue tracing a thick line across her heat a few times before focusing on her clit. His fingers—oh _Divines bless those fingers_—appeared once more to press inside her, one, then two fingers hooking in and out in a delightful rhythm. She writhed against him, both hands reaching down to thread and grasp at his hair in desperation.

She was suddenly reminded that at any moment, a Guild member could walk back through the Cistern entrance and catch them. Now more than ever, she wanted to chase her end, and found herself scooting—or at least trying to move—closer to his touch, _anything_ to get him move that beautiful, devilish mouth of his faster against her cunt.

“Please, _oh_—” she gasped, breaking off into a moan as his tongue and lips lapped at her in tight circles. “_Faster_.” She was just about to—

“Bryn!” she yelped when she felt him pull back _just_ enough to deny her ecstasy. She dug her heel into the middle of his back, crying his name out louder when he responded in earnest—it didn’t take much for her to finally find release. Fiona gripped his hair tight, squeezing her thighs against his temple as more incoherent words fell from her lips—perhaps some of them in Dovahzul.

Brynjolf didn’t pull away until her body relaxed from seizing, sporting a small satisfied grin through kisses to her thighs and hips as he brought her legs down from his shoulders. His movements slowed as he leaned up from the chair to loom over her.

“In a rush?” he asked in a playful tone. Still breathless, Fiona only glanced upwards towards the Flaggon entrance before looking towards Brynjolf. He softly chuckled, hands ghosting over her thighs, causing little tremors to echo up her body. “You don’t think I made sure somebody is on lookout for us?”

Fiona could only roll her eyes. _Of course_ he had the entire evening rearranged. Delvin? Vex? It didn’t matter. She couldn’t be _that_ annoyed or embarrassed about the situation—it was a fool’s errand to try and keep her private affairs _private_ from the others. Instead, she grew impatient as she focused on Brynjolf unbuckling his coat, opening it before working to undo his trousers as well. She sat up and pulled him in for a frenzied kiss, moving her hands across his body to remove as much—or as _little_ clothing as possible so he could take her. He shrugged off his Guild jacket, both their hands meeting to shove his pants and underwear down past his thighs. Fiona hooked her legs around his waist, urging him to come closer to her, palm already seeking the heat of his stiffened cock when he groaned into her mouth.

She gasped when he pulled away, if only to pounce on her, grabbing both of her wrists in one large calloused hand, holding them above her head as he stretched her across the desk beneath his body. His other hand gripped her hip tight, breaking away for the briefest of seconds to align himself at her entrance. Fiona anticipated more teasing or prolonged torture of pleasure but instead, Brynjolf plunged forward, fully seating himself within her with that initial thrust.

Her body reacted wholly, back arching off the desk and hips crashing against his. She flexed her fingers, struggling to free her hands so she could grasp at his body—_anywhere_ so she could find leverage. His hand on her hip dug deeper, blunt nails biting into her skin in a delightfully painful way. Brynjolf withdrew and thrust forward just as quickly, and she tossed her head back, moaning loudly as the heat of him filled her completely. He released the hold on her wrists, but before she could reach out to touch him he leaned away, hands sliding along her legs to press against his torso, ankles resting along his shoulders as he firmly held her waist. Fiona concentrated on his furrowed brow as he set a relentless pace—it wasn’t to be _quick_—but to be passionate. To make a statement—one she heard very loud and clear.

She bit down on her lip before deciding against stifling herself, concluding it was much better to let their noises be heard as he intended. She reached down to grip his hands at her waist, their fingers haphazardly lacing. It was a struggle to keep eye-contact as that first glorious wave started to crash over her—he wasn’t going to stop just yet. Fiona began to pant, repeated his name over and over between little prayers to Nocturnal and Mara and every God in-between. Brynjolf kept a determined focus on her eyes and body, his thrusts only faltering by the time her second orgasm made her body convulse and pulsate in ways that threatened to milk every last drop of seed from his body.

When he came, it was hard, hips crashing against her body with a strangled groan catching in his throat before his body was falling across hers on the desk, her name a hushed whisper of amazement as they slowly rolled their hips against each other. Eventually he withdrew from her but stayed close, the heat and weight of his body a pleasantly welcome feeling.

“Can I expect _more_ reports from you?” Fiona asked, breathless as she clung to him, sweeping one of her hands down his back. “With little hearts and _important_ details?”

Brynjolf’s deep rumbling chuckle echoed next to her ear, his warm breath still causing a tingle to spark along her spine. He kissed her temple, pulling away so he could look at her directly. His expression was bright, eyes glimmering with amusement and adoration—she could get used to the way he looked at her like this.

“That would entail sending me away,” he explained.

Fiona scrunched up her face in protest. “Never mind.”

After several moments, Brynjolf eventually leaned away, gripping her hands to help her sit up, the two of them laughing as they observed the mess they had made of the desk—parchment and reports strewn about, a shattered inkpot on the floor and at least three gold pieces had made it all the way to the middle water-pool.

“I can still leave you notes, lass,” he spoke, voice hinting at what filth they would contain. “Just know _this_ is a possible outcome.”

Fiona nodded, pressing soft lazy kisses along his stubbled jaw. “What about debriefing me in person?”

“Isn’t that what I just—” he chuckled, catching onto her tease. “Oh, my sweet saucy minx, of course you can have both. After all, I aim to please.”

**Author's Note:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


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